Letter to my Children
Someday I will be gone from this physical existence, and all that will be left is the memory of me by those who at least knew a part of me. And even then, it will be only partial, tainted by beliefs, emotions, assumptions, expectations, and snapshots of various me’s from their own perspective, their own bubbles of reality.
And those I love will go with me in my heart, my deep inner chamber, and well of unexpressed emotions, both joyful and sad, both proud and full of longing. My three grown children are on my mind today, as I contemplate growing older. I realize more acutely all the time how little we really know one another. But then, even just getting to know oneself can be a lifelong endeavor.
I yearn for them, for those days when I held them close, and they were a part of my everyday life. I never thought a time would come when they became so far away. Not by distance, but in spirit. I realize I don’t even know who they are anymore, and maybe never did. For I, too, have lived life in my own little bubble of perception. Do my children even know how much of an alien I feel I am to this reality, to this realm of existence? How I have never felt like I belong here at all.
As the years have gone by I have retreated from the outside world more and more, just to maintain some semblance of sanity and balance. It feels very hostile “out there”. I have created a life that sort of works for me. It took a long time to get here. For the most part I am at peace within myself. I have discovered many things about living in a physical body and existence in relationships with others, that was not taught to me and many never go there at all. What I mean to say is that I have questioned everything since I got here this time around, and not accepted that what I was being told was actually true, or representative of what is real, or truly meaningful in this existence. It turns out that most of what I was taught had to be thrown out, and replaced by real experience. Having an extremely contemplative nature has brought about a depth of understanding that I would never have guessed would occur, and brought me to a place where I feel like an alien even to my own children. Who really are they? I admit, I do not know.
I want to know, but all I see are the physical aspects, and not the depth of their soul and potential to grow in this lifetime. Who will they become? Will I be allowed in to share even a glimpse of the true inner terrain of their spirit? And how do I know if they will ever have the courage to confront the gatekeepers who must be slain in order to reach those inner depths? I don’t know that either.
And that is why I write today. For God is real. And God IS love. There is no space between. All is aglow with the spirit of creator. The lesson I’ve learned that means the most to me is how well I tend my inner garden and manifest it into my surroundings. It is what matters most. How to embody that love, and how to live an authentic life is the only question that matters to me any more. I can’t control what others think, say, and do. I may wish there was a greater flow of love between us, of giving and receiving, but it cannot be forced, it can only be weeded and watered, and provided with good seed and soil.
Will any of this be understood. Quite possibly not. But I do feel a light growing within me, that makes all else pale in comparison, and makes this shit show of a reality seem so ridiculously wasteful. We allow it to be as dark as it is, and it does directly have to do with running from our inner demons. They are the gatekeepers, always undermining all efforts to break free. They are petty tyrants, and pretty successful, for the most part. I do see my children pushing back, at least trying to understand from their own bubbles of reality, in their efforts to make life work better for them. And I guess they will have to figure it out on their own, as it is indeed an inside job. But I do wish I could share in the process a little more. I miss them. They are here, and I am here, but yet we are apart. And by the time they figure out it may have been a good idea to get to know me better (if they ever do), it will be too late. But it will never be too late for love. For love is eternal. And it is what actually creates. The love that I have cultivated in this lifetime is also eternal. It will always be there, just a thought away. They can move into that field any time they choose. And they can meet me there.
